Recently, a very kind person told me, “Sometimes I truly believe stuff falls apart to give us a break or as a sign that too much is going on.”
Last week, stuff certainly fell apart. My dually headed to the shop for some major repairs, ruining my work-week plans to visit Julie Goodnight’s ranch in Salida, Colo., and my weekend plans to head to a barrel race in Castle Rock.
But, with temperatures hovering in the mid-80s Saturday and Sunday, Corey and I took the chance to take our horses “cricking” as we’d call it in my home state of Pennsylvania. “Cricking” would actually be spelled “creeking,” if either were words at all in the first place. But all this means is that we took our horses up and down the deep mountain creeks surrounding our barn, letting them play in the water and cool off after a long ride in Rabbit Mountain County Park. Our arena-spoiled horses, who haven’t spent too much time in the woods, thought this was quite the adventure.
Getting them into the deep water was not nearly as simple as it should have been. Naughty, with all of her try, surged forth after just a slight hesitation. She splashed around in the water, dunking her head in and enjoying herself. Casady on the other hand, not only refused, she acted as if we were asking that she run her 10th barrel pattern of the day. In her classic style, she pitched a fit. What we were doing wasn’t working to get her in the shoulder-high water, so Corey, always the gentleman, took her by the reins and led her into the water. She followed right along, no questions asked. After that, she took to the water like a fish. Corey, though, thought there just might be fish in his boots after that excursion.
Aside from cricking, the horses got to enjoy scrubbed water buckets, cleaned splint boots and leg wraps, and many more things that wouldn’t have been done had we been on the road for four days. Sometimes, you’ve really just got to sit back and enjoy the ride.